Midnight Thoughts
by ali.starlight
Summary: Tony Stark is having a good day: his meetings go flawlessly, he spends quality time with his team, and no sudden Avengers alarms go off. But the night is a different story. Doubt, worry, and insecurity all kick in at full speed, and Tony's left wondering just exactly how much everyone cares about him. (one-shot)


So, this is my first story here, and I thought I would start off with a good old sad story. Whoops.

I have just finished watching some of the early films in the MCU, and this came to me as I was watching Iron Man 3, so I whipped it out and decided to just go for it and post it. :)

Feel free to comment, critique, anything. I appreciate all feedback!

* * *

The day had gone pretty well. He had been on time to all his meetings. His meetings had all gone smoothly. He had had dinner with the rest of the Avengers — a gloriously chaotic, but welcome team-bonding affair.

After they had finished scraping spaghetti sauce from the ceiling (courtesy of Thor's manic culinary skills), they had all collapsed on Tony's couch. A movie was put on, and for the next two-and-a-half hours, Tony laughed, debated, and lounged with his team. It was a perfect example of happiness — being surrounded by the people who had become his family over the years.

Once the movie had finished, they had all agreed that it was late and probably time to get some sleep. Meetings, missions, and other business awaited all of them tomorrow, after all.

Tony thought he was happy. There was nothing that happened that day that could possibly have been seen as upsetting or worrisome.

Which made his current predicament all the more troubling.

Tony Stark lay on his bed in the dark, his head half-buried in the pillow beneath his head. He grasped the sheets tightly in his hands, bunching them up close to his chest. Tears streamed down his face, wetting his cheeks and catching on the pillow. An occasional gasp escaped his dry lips.

He was trying to be silent, in case any of the other Avengers happened to walk in for whatever reason. The last thing he wanted was for his team to see him crying. Stark men were made of iron, and this was most definitely not acceptable.

But the tears continued to fall, almost by their own accord. He had gone to bed satisfied with his day, but his damn mind couldn't be empty for once. He had lain there, staring at his ceiling, and the thoughts had begun pouring in.

_Did the team really enjoy his company? Did Pepper really love him? Was he really qualified to be an Avenger? Maybe Pepper didn't love him, maybe that was why she wasn't here now. Maybe she had better plans than to be with his sorry self. The team had better places to be than sitting on his couch watching a movie with him._

And on and on the thoughts ran. The thoughts began as questions but quickly turned into statements. He wasn't worth it. He was just their source of money. Iron Man was just on the team because they didn't want to lose their benefactor. That was the only reason they put up with his egotistical ass.

Howard was right. Nobody would ever love Tony Stark. He was too much to handle. He just wasn't worth all the trouble. If his own parents couldn't find it in their hearts to care, why would anybody else?

"Shut up. Shut up. Shut _up_." Tony quietly chanted to himself. How the fuck was he supposed to be useful to the rest of the Avengers or to SI or to Pepper, if he couldn't even handle his emotions? Stark men did not cry. They did not cry, _not ever_.

Tony had learned that lesson when he was five. Howard had made sure of that. If he traced his fingers along his right collarbone, he would be able to feel the scar from the glass carafe that Howard had thrown at him. It had been his fifth birthday, and he had begged Howard to let him into his workshop, just for his birthday, just to see what he was working on, just this _once_.

Howard had turned down his request. Well, that was putting it mildly. Howard had screamed at Tony, reminded him that he was worthless, that there was equipment in there he would ruin, that it would be a wasted effort.

Tony had started crying despite his best efforts not to. And that had fueled Howard's anger even more. Howard taunted him for being weak. "What kind of goddamn engineer will you be? Crying like a fucking baby. You'll rust all my tools with your useless tears. Fuck, you're not my son. You'll never be my son. My son wouldn't cry."

Howard's lips had curled in disgust, and Tony had desperately tried to cut off his tears, but they had kept flowing. The glass carafe hit him before he even noticed Howard had it in his hand. It shattered on him, the wine in it spreading over his white shirt, mixing with the blood that started seeping from the cuts on him.

Maria had chosen to enter the room then, yelling at Howard for ruining a perfectly good shirt. Tony had just stood there, glass shards embedded in his collarbone, red liquid dripping onto the carpet. It had been Jarvis who had cleaned him up, stitched him up, soothed him. And Tony had vowed to never cry in front of his father, or anyone else ever again.

But here he was now, weeping into the pillow just as he had wept in front of Howard that day. And for what reason? No fucking good reason.

Just because he felt worthless. But that was never a good reason to begin with.

He was insecure, so terribly insecure. It was something few people knew about him. He questioned every act of kindness towards him, every decision he made, every breath he took.

Maybe Nastasha was right. Iron Man — yes. Tony Stark — no. Maybe he should have stayed in that wormhole. Maybe they wanted him to stay in the wormhole. Maybe it would have been better that way. Rhodey had access to the suits. They could go to him if they needed a suit of armor to use in a battle. Tony Stark was just so very replaceable.

The tears stopped flowing, and a feeling of despair draped over him. Was that just it? They used him as a benefactor and nothing else. God, why didn't he think of it earlier? Oh yeah, because he was busy being blinded by the fact that people were being nice to him...for more than a minute at a time.

A small hiccup escaped him as he considered this. If he died or disappeared, would they miss him? Would anyone? Was he truly replaceable? Would they even notice his absence?

His body made his decision before his mind did. He had his cellphone pressed to his ear before he even realized he had it in his hand.

"Tony? What is it?" Pepper's exasperated voice answered the phone.

"P-Pepper…" Tony stuttered, his tongue suddenly feeling heavy in his mouth.

"Tony?" Pepper repeated, her tone now sounding slightly more concerned. "Are you okay?"

"I-I," Tony hung his head, the dry tears feeling sticky on his cheeks. "I'm coming back to Malibu tonight."

There was a beat of silence and then, "Tony, what happened?"

Tony almost laughed out loud. Of course she would assume something was wrong. Of course. "Nothing," he lied, rubbing his left hand nervously on the side of his pajama pants. "Just wanted to come home and see you, you know?"

"Tony," Pepper let out a sigh, and Tony imagined her massaging her head as she did when she was frustrated or confused with him. "You know I love you, and I want you here, but you don't just randomly decide to fly out across the nation just because you miss me."

"On the contrary, that sounds exactly like me," Tony interrupted. "See you soon, Pepper." With that, he hung up the phone, and sighed. Impulsive. That was what he was called. And that was what he would be.

And a midnight breakdown sounded like the perfect reason to fly across the nation. At least Pepper had said she loved him. Hopefully she wouldn't change her mind. That would break his heart, even though he had long since convinced himself he was not worthy of anyone's affections.

He was Tony Stark, after all. Genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist. Nothing more, nothing less.

Nobody noticed Iron Man taking off from Stark Tower at 2 in the morning. Why would they? Nobody had the time or desire to be looking up at the sky that early in the morning.

The rest of the Avengers woke up the next morning to find their teammate gone, but they brushed it off as normal. Tony Stark was known to be an impulsive man, and besides, he usually had people to see, places to be.

That's why nobody on the team expected to turn on the TV a few weeks later and see the headline that they did. "Tony Stark Dead After Attack on Malibu Home," read the headline, and the silence in the room was deafening.

Just another reminder of how short life could be, and how painful it was to take someone for granted.

"I never got to thank him," Steve Rogers was the first to speak, and the other Avengers could only nod numbly in agreement, their eyes fixated on the TV screen.

In another state, Tony Stark was alive and in the process of fighting against people infected with a new virus, Extremis.

But the other Avengers didn't know that. To them, they had just lost Earth's best defender.

But Tony Stark didn't know that. To him, it seemed that nobody really missed Tony Stark. Iron Man — yes. Tony Stark — no.


End file.
